Godclads

Two simple rules, Veylis: Never tell someone how they should feel, and never make them feel how you do not wish them to feel. Words are tools that can be used to convey information, but information is an imperfect virus for our true intentions, and man is an animal of baser impulse before rationality.

Always.

Master this, and you can shape anyone in the direction of your choosing.

-Jaus Avandaer

32-2

Jailbreak (I)

—[Naeko]—

“And, how many hours have you logged into this game again,” Jaus asked for the third time that day, looking extremely concerned.

“It’s a military-historical tactical-strategy Nether-sim,” Naeko corrected. And defended. “There’s a lot of good you can get from it, you know. You–you were always telling me to work on my lateral thinking, try to expand my experiences, so… yeah, I put in a few hundred thousand hours of work on Stormjumpers. For myself.”

For long while, Jaus just stared at him, those familiar blue eyes wide, unblinking; surprised but not truly judging. “Perhaps I would understand better if I were to experience for myself.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Naeko agreed, nodding at his returned master. He frowned slightly as he thought of all the slurs, rash-casting, and general “atmosphere” posted by the fan base, though. He might need to crack down on that before giving Jaus a taste of his “educational hobby.”

Well. That was if he ever got the chance. Naeko couldn’t reach the Nether at all—couldn’t do much of anything for the first time in years. He hit the weird time-ghost-shimmering barrier thing a couple dozen times with everything he had. His Heaven, a distortion, his fog, his literal fists. Nothing. It wasn’t even like a solid structure, either. Everything he inflicted just kind of…. passed to somewhere else.

Where that somewhere was, or how this all worked? Hells if Naeko knew. He wasn’t an Agnos. But he knew there was something controlling the fire. He could feel it watching him, wrapping the glowing walls around him, but never consuming him. Every time he tried charging through, he just ended up coming out the same way he went in.

It was all metaphysical madness. Metaphysical Naeko thought he was far beyond by this point with his Sage of the Sundered Sky. But no. Not at all. Turns out there was something beyond force and violence he couldn’t break or bend to his whim.

And that had Naeko feeling a kind of way he hadn’t for a long time. Bitter. Helpless. Scared. Right now, Chief Paladin Samir Naeko wasn’t so different from that tortured child Sister Karakan had brutalized and dangled from meat hooks, dangling like a sack of pain-meat for other slaves to vent their hate on.

Not so different except for one thing.

He wasn’t alone.

Jaus. Jaus was here. Somehow, against all impossibility, from the depths of Naeko’s bitter-most dreams, the closest thing he had to a true father—even more than his own—had been brought back and delivered to him. Now they were both trapped here. Trapped together, sitting on seats of tessellating rubble that Naeko fashioned, just talking…

More talking than Naeko had done in a long time.

Awkwardly, Naeko reached out with a finger and poked at Jaus. The fabric of the man’s formal wear wrinkled slightly, and the Savior pursed his lips in a bemused fashion as he stared at Naeko’s tentative prod. “I’m still real, Samir. You’re not hallucinating.”

“Trying to convince myself of that,” Naeko breathed. “I’ve gone insane a few times, you know? I managed to manually sequence-reset the damage using my Meta. Didn’t need to involve a Mender or a Necro. Thing I could’ve made a pretty good Mender with some practice.”

“I suspect you would have. You were always better at facing your pains than you like to acknowledge.” Jaus looked at him and his expression dissolved into disapproval. “But this should not be a burden you suffer. This is not what I wanted for you.”

Naeko just sat there, silently. Not knowing what to say. Instead, he picked up a piece of rock using his utility fog and, with a whip crack of a toss, sent it sailing kilometers into the distance, toward the ethereally bright walls that formed the cage of this prison for him and Jaus. It vanished into the bright. A splash of phantasmal essence and fractals of chronological gold marked the point of impact. “Yeah. Well. So much for what we want, right?”

Saying that brightened Naeko’s mood by a bit, even though he sniffled. Jaus was back. Jaus was back. Of all the things he wanted, this was nearly unparalleled.

Nearly.

But this dream contended with another deep wound inside him. One inflicted by another bearing the name Avandaer. One Naeko couldn’t help but think of even now. “I’m sorry.” 𝑅

Jaus nodded. “What for this time?”

“All of it,” Naeko said. “All of this. I wanted you to… If I knew this was going to happen—you were gonna be back and all that… I would have fought harder. I would done everything I could to rebuild the Paladins, to put the Guilds in their place. But…” He shrugged. “I don’t have a good reason. A good excuse. I just… got hurt. And then I stopped trying.” His eyes were fixed on the ground, but his mind was some place distant. He told Jaus what happened. Most of it. About how Idheim was now. About everyone they lost and that things that went wrong. “Osjane… she would have known what to do. I would trade myself for her. At any point. If there was a Heaven that could do that. If there was a power that offered that deal. I’d take it. I’m tired. And…” he gave a disgusted, beaten scoff at the walls sealing him in, “pretty fucking useless. Can’t even get us out of this place.”

Jaus Avandaer’s gaze was intense and unblinking. Naeko couldn’t meet his eyes; could only read intense focus on the Savior’s expression. That was classic Jaus: everyone talked about how good he was with his words, how his charisma was legendary, but Naeko feared his silence—how it was used as a weapon. But Naeko was also experienced when it came to that, and so he didn’t shame himself further, speaking when he didn’t need to.

“You would have. That’s how you feel. As much as Osjane’s loss fills me with grief and rage, I would not take that deal. I could never take that deal.”

The Chief Paladin clenched his jaw to keep himself from shaking. This, he was so good at: the not turning into a blubbering mess when Jaus started doing his speech-surgery. It hurt. Every time, it hurt. “Yeah.”

“Naeko,” Jaus said, his pause akin to an artist deciding on their stroke rather than a rambler reaching through the fog of their mind for a trite phrase, “I know how you feel about your failings, and I have seen your inadequacies for what they are. But—let me first tell you how I feel, and then tell you what I reasonably know.

“I feel like I failed you. Looking at you now fills me with caustic disgust. There are so many things I should have done, so much time and effort I should have devoted to you, but never did. There was always another excuse, another engagement. And I told myself that you were strong, growing stronger, that there was still time. What I fool I was.”

Jaus shook his head and closed his eyes. “Even so. Not bringing you with me to the Ladder that day isn’t something I regret.”

This made Naeko raise his head in surprise. “Why? I could have—”

“We could have only hurt you more,” Jaus said, interrupting him with honesty. “I am not certain what you would have done. I know how you feel about me and what you feel toward Veylis. But who would you aid if we called? And we would have both called for you, driven to such desperation. We would have torn your heart asunder. And there would be few things more vile than such an act. Which is why she did not. Which is why I did not. Which is why I suspect we remain here, unbothered.”

There was a heavy lump in Naeko’s throat. He couldn’t speak. Not without embarrassing himself furthers. Dead gods, it hurt. It hurt so much inside. For years, he was numb—didn’t think about any of this, but right now, it felt like all his wounds were being opened up at once.

“In retrospect, I think the wisest decision would be entrusting command over the design of the paths to you?”

Another surprise jolted Naeko to the surface while he was drowning in inner-agony. “What?”

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“Yes,” Jaus continued, leaning back in his chair and dusting the edge of his jacket. “It should have been you. You possessed the strength. Neither Veylis, I, nor even Zein could deny you through direct means. And… you have a singular quality I have always envied. I told you this before, do you remember what it is?”

“Yeah,” Naeko said, swallowing. “You uh… you said I don’t have the ‘poison of ambition’ running through my heart. And you gave me that old heretical text to read. The thing about the Ring of the Short People or something.” This made Jaus give an uncharacteristic snort. Naeko flinched. “Did I fuck the name up?”

“No. It’s… close enough. But yes. You are tempted by surprisingly few things. Lust does not drive you. Pride does not rule you. Your anger was… fierce. Consuming. But righteous. It was retribution born of a befouled seed. And that was why I thought to have you serve with the Paladins in the first place. Because the wrong should fear the wrathful righteous. Because in so many does not a flame of good burn, but an acceptance of the order that is. But beyond that, with your vengeance against the gods concluded, you wanted nothing more… than to make me and my family happy. And it flattered me to have you in my life. Just as I realized it debased you.”

“No, it never—”

Jaus reached out, his motion violence with urgency. His hand was placed against Naeko’s muscular slab of a forearm, fair-skin pressed against midnight black. Jaus Avandaer was never a slight figure, and if measured by height, he loomed over Naeko. But next to each other, the Savior looked a malnourished willow brushing against a beast of a man wide and width and robust with strength.

“I let you speak of how you feel for all the hours before,” Jaus said with a smile. “Now, let me tell you how I feel. It is only just.”

With but a few words, Naeko was silenced and only nodded.

“It debased you. Because it rooted you to us. It leashed you to our desires. For all your life, we have decided who you would become, what you would learn, who you needed to slay, what armies you had to butcher, what gods you were to break. And by the time it was done, our victory sealed your fate. You were never your own person. Which is why I’m going to be quite interested in seeing this… Stormjumpers for myself. It gladdens me you finally have something of your own. And disturbs me that a simulation can demand so much time.”

“Yeah,” Naeko said, slightly embarrassed. “Tried to get Veylis to play once.”

“Oh, no,” Jaus face fell, expression riven between horror and humor.

“Yeah, it was that bad. Someone in the lobby said something she didn’t like and, well… had to get one of our Exorcists to do a wellness check afterward. Guy had a legit EGO-ID. Talking a Citizen into a suicide is pretty rusted thing—probably wouldn’t blow over.”

“Very wise,” Jaus chuckled. At the mention of Veylis, both of their moods dampened. “I mean it. It should have been you that guided us. You had the purity. And it should be you now. Not Osjane. She made a good leader—a good protector of the people, and her loss is a tragedy that has scarred history, but where she was the guardian, you were the hammer. People choose the law because they fear the consequence. And you were the consequence. You remain the consequence. Peace must be powerful. Justice should be feared. And you were both these things. And you remain both these things now, as diminished as you think you are.”

The Chief Paladin shifted awkwardly on his seat. Most of Scale had been carved all to shit, so they basically had a “beachfront view” of the crashing rock-like waves and the distant quivering walls that contained them. But it was the ruins he gestured at. The ruins of his stronghold home. “I want to believe you. But I failed. Twice. Twice, I let her ruin this place. Twice, I let her kill my Paladins.”

“Twice my daughter has transgressed!” Jaus said, a snarl entering his voice. “Twice. With the second time showing the depths of her madness.” Instead of pointing down at the rubble, he pointed up to the sky, to the rupture, of concept, of truth, of love that marred a patch of existence kilometers above. “Look at what she has done. Mutilating even herself in body, ego, and Soul to achieve this. To inflict this.”

“I could have stopped her,” Naeko said. A tear slipped out from his right eye, and he growled as he watched it fall. He wiped at his face. Fucking pussy. Jaus didn’t react though. “When I was inside her Heavens with Zein, when we were cutting through her paths, I could have ended things. There were chances—points I could have forced a paradox. Made us both just human for a while. Avo could have burned us. Zein could have finished things. But…”

“But you didn’t,” Jaus nodded. “And she didn’t to you either. Naeko… I fear though she has twisted herself for an impossible dream she remains as bound to your memory as you are to hers.”

“I could have ended things?” Naeko repeated.

“And I could have said the right words to her. I could have—have been a better man to Zein. Stood my ground against her more…” A rare expression of fear slipped from Jaus and Naeko just gawked.

“Wait, you’re afraid of Zein?”

“Of course I’m afraid of her,” Jaus practically spat. “Afraid? Terrified. Petrified. And… hopelessly enchanted. Do you know what she thought a good profession of love was? When she returned home, dueled, slew, and desecrated the corpses of her entire Clan and all the other Clans besides—sparing those that swore fealty. And then, slick with the blood of her kin, she came to me with their heads on her hip, infants to elders, and her eyes were aglow with passion. And I was… horrifically enchanted.”

Jaus fell silent. “I hid my fear from her. My supposed stoicism was the only reason she hadn’t killed me when we were trapped together, but dead gods, never have I slept so poorly those nights. Even after we… came to an understanding.”

The Chief Paladin stared. He willed himself not to imagine what that meant.

“But yes. I fanned the dark flame in her. Because she was my beautiful retribution against a world consumed by irrationality, of madness, of wasted generations, cruel masters and crueler gods. And you… you were my dream after. The son I was always pleased to have, for you represented peace unconquerable and justice eternal—above war. Above her. Which is why she had to be your master. Which is why I chose you to inherit the Sage and not here. Never her.”

“That was why,” Naeko muttered. He looked away from Jaus. He wondered about his Heaven many times. Zein was still his clear superior in battle when he had the Sage grafted, but Jaus chose him and Zein agreed. “You wanted me to… stand against her?”

“I wanted you to be greater than her,” Jaus said, “and greater than I. And power over peace should not be bestowed on one who is so battle-lusted.”

Another shadow passed through Naeko, but there was a power building inside him: A need to speak the truth. “I’m not who you think I am. I… I was hurting someone. Torturing them. Doing worse. For years. For years. You remember Karakan. I told you about her. I…”

Then, the third surprise came. “I know.”

Naeko’s mind went blank. He expected disappointment. Shame. Disgust. Sadness. But not such a casual admission from Jaus. Not such acceptance. “You knew? But… but then, why didn’t you…”

“I didn’t stop you because I didn’t know how to make it right,” Jaus answered with a slight smile. “One should never demand impossible strength and nobility from a victim without giving them relief, without rendering the one that harmed them undone in all aspects. And… because I hated her too. Naeko. She hurt my boy. And I am no more saint than you, despite what you might believe.”

An aching silence dragged, and a sob escaped from Naeko. He tried to hold it in, but Jaus—the half-strand—got up and hugged him. After that, defeat was the only option. But defeat wasn’t so bad. Crying into Jaus’ chest like a child was embarrassing, but getting his head stroked was nice, having someone there with him was nice. And inside, Naeko felt tired, but also starved. Of affection. Of understanding. Of forgiveness.

Whatever Jaus was, he was always what Naeko needed.

After a good few minutes or an hour—Naeko couldn’t be assed to time his cry-session, he snifled and pulled away with a few mutters. “I…”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Jaus said, returning to his seat while frowning at the massive wet splotch running down the front of his jacket. “Glad he made me waterproof—ah. But, no. You don’t need to do anything. Just… let yourself be. Don’t drown yourself in pleasure or fantasy or words. Just exist. As yourself. It will hurt. But it will be restful.”

“We still gotta get out of here,” Naeko said.

“That is not your duty alone,” Jaus replied. “There are others as well. Others who stood alongside you, who will fight for you still. The other Paladins. The good people left of this city—those who believe in dream above Guild. And… my peculiar creator. At least, for this particular node of me.” The Savior blinked, looking flabbergasted. “How did you encounter this Avo?”

“Didn’t,” Naeko replied, sucking in a noseful of snot. “He ambushed me. In my game. Came out of nowhere.”

“Some of the best people do.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I would call him a person.” Naeko paused. “But… I guess he’s a consang. He, uh, he ate Karakan and uh… I killed her afterward. He… pushed me over the edge.”

“Ah,” Jaus muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No. I needed that. He was… he’s not like you. He’s kind of an inhuman asshole. But he… I think he cares. In a weird, fucked up, post-human abomination kind of way.”

Jaus froze. “He… reminds me of someone.”

“Yeah, he and the Infacer… think they got along too. Kind of. Real buddy-buddy shit-talking between them. Not like enemies at all.”

“That sometimes happens as well,” Jaus said. “But, yes. There are others that—”

In the far distance, a sudden shadow crashed against the shimmering barrier. The glowing walls shook, shuddered, and began to writhe as something behind their translucence tore. Naeko felt it—-a rupture. A major one growing on the edge of Scale. And he got a feeling—a gut feeling about who might be behind that.

Slowly, disbelievingly, a grin spread across his face. “Fuck me, Jaus, you’re always right.”

Jaus rose from his seat and ordered his lapels. “It is my curse. Suppose we will be leaving soon?”

A whirlwind of vapor wrapped around them. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to show you what they did to our city.”